


A Birthday Surprise

by Loremaster_Loryn



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, History, Lore-inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 12:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6116563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loremaster_Loryn/pseuds/Loremaster_Loryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A special one-shot story celebrating the second birthday of The Northrend Chronicles over on ff.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Birthday Surprise

"Uncle Silly Billy!"

A blur of froofery and _pink_ launched itself into his arms and the man barely caught the young projectile, stumbling backwards as small arms wrapped tight around his neck.

"Hah, ha! Hello little one!" 'Uncle Silly Billy' hugged his niece tightly, his crooked nose tickled by bouncing auburn curls and he inhaled the scent of talcum, floral – something not hers, he suspects a dose of her mother's perfume when the woman wasn't looking- and _sweet_ that made up the overall aroma of _little_ _girl_. He squeezed her until she giggled.

The child in question pulled back. Flushed cheeks, wide, shining, honey-brown eyes and a smile so infectious that 'Uncle Silly Billy' now wore one, greeted him.

"Hi," she whispered shyly.

"Hello," he responded fondly, tapping her nose for another giggle. He doted upon his niece like his own and adjusted her to his hip, fiddling with the layers of whatever flouncy dress her mother dressed her in that morning until they rest properly. A little black shoe, smaller than the palm of his hand, peeked out in front of him.

"Bill! What a greeting!" A man strode towards them, his jacket and breeches well-fitted, boots high-kneed and without scuff. His hair sat well groomed and-

"A beard, Jim? What possessed you to grow one of these after all the years of adamant refusal?" Bill cried to his brother, receiving him in a fierce, one-armed hug.

"Blame your sister for that," he grinned, dark eyes sparkling with mischief as he reached out to tickle his daughter.

"I take no such responsibility for your brother's body hair," came the remaining member of Bill's family. Deep red hair rest in a soft bun atop her head, strands artfully falling around her face and shoulders. Pale skin, light freckles and blue eyes completed her beauty and a simple cream gown rest on her form, swelling at the hips and stomach where she accommodated his niece's sibling. Still holding his niece, for she refused to let go, Bill leaned forward to kiss the woman warmly on the cheek.

"Isabella, how are you?"

"As well as can be, you rascal. Now let us get you inside and you can tell us about your journey, no doubt you are tired. Do you require a bath before dinner is served?"

He allowed himself to be fussed and mothered by his sister-in-law as she led him inside their grand house. His booted heels soon stopped clacking cobblestone and instead tread on warm carpet, and he dare not place down the tiny doll still holding tight onto him just yet. Flanked by his siblings, cuddled by his niece, inhaling the scent of freshly baked goods wafting from the kitchen and climbing gilded stairs, Bill had come home.

* * *

"I told him that because it was my birthday I was allowed a cake. But you can't tell Mama and Papa! Pinkie swear, Uncle Silly Billy!"

The man chuckled merrily as he bent one long finger around a tiny, determined pinkie. "I solemnly swear to keep your secret from your parents, Sarah." He winked to Jim, who stood in shadow by the library door having snuck in a few minutes prior to hear the tale. Jim shook his head, white teeth visibly betraying the wide smile he wore.

Oblivious that her secret was confessed by herself, little Sarah continued regaling the story of her busy day yesterday. The pair sat on the floor in the library, cross legged and completely at each other's attention. Bill's back protested after a short while, but his long journey could account for that. After their brief reunion in the courtyard, the small party had broken up. Isabella was overseeing the serving of dinner and Jim had briefly departed to complete some paperwork before he finished for the evening, now free to join them in secret to his daughter.

It did not matter, Bill was pleased with his small company and was happy to entertain her. While he had business in the city, he had deliberately scheduled the work to bring him here around the date specifically so he could steal some time with his niece. She was an excellent story teller and thrived on the exaggerated tales that Bill pulled from his hat. They swapped secrets and made many promises that one should never break with a child. Secrets of extra cookies and hiding from nannies, promises of fun and laughter that only he could provide as sole uncle to the wee one.

Today's secret was that of a gifted sugar bun. A little boy she had befriended was the Baker's boy two streets away. As with most people she met, Sarah had charmed her way into his affections and managed to manipulate a sweet treat out from him as a result. He was so proud.

"Did you say it was your _birthday_?" Bill cried incredulously and far too outrageously to be anything but hilarious to the little girl. " _No_! Surely not! You are still a baby!"

"Uncle _Silly Billy_!" she giggled louder. "That's why you're here! You _know_ it's my birthday tomorrow!"

"Do I?!" He rest a hand across his forehead. "Oh me, oh my! I must have forgotten!" He protested. "But alas! I don't have any presents for you!"

To Sarah's credit, her face did not fall at this false admission, instead her smile broadened and she threw herself into his arms for the second time that evening.

"That's okay Uncle, I still love you!" Small lips pressed to his coarse cheek and his core grew warm. "We can share the one Mama and Papa got for me!"

"And what did they get you, Sarah?"

"I'll show you!"

Before he could reply, she scrambled not-so-gracefully from where they had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, to stand apart from him and throw her arms out wide. With an excitement that only such an innocent soul could generate, she spun in a round circle, her feet wobbling as they turned faster and faster. The poofy pink thing that she wore, sashed at the waist with a thick white ribbon, fanned out around her in a fabric halo. It weaved and undulated around her and she giggled and laughed like children should, dark loose curls flying free in her glee.

The giggles turned into a shriek as two strong arms picked her up mid-twirl, showering her with bearded kisses.

"Pa-Papa!" she protested between breaths.

"Gotcha!" Jim cried triumphantly, holding her high above his head before spinning in a circle. Bill chuckled heartily as he watched on, his chest swelling with affection. He recalled the day that his little brother's letter announced that Isabella had birthed a daughter and Bill had made plans to ride out from the big family estate the next day. Four days later, he arrived to the fine house and was greeted by a tired, but glowing mother and a squashed-face looking bundle. The moment she had clasped his crooked bare ring finger, he was besotted. For the first time in decades, he nearly regretted having to oversee the family estate in the country. Nearly.

She was the miracle child, after too many unhappy endings for his brother and his wife. Of course she was spoiled and went without wanting, but not grossly so. She was a kind and beautiful soul, and now she was set to become a big sister in the next month or so. No expense was spared as both brothers assured the best physicians to oversee the pregnancy, the siblings still haunted by Isabella's broken expressions. All had proceeded well and both mother and child bloomed according to professionals. Of course Isabella swotted them all away, declaring them worse then women, but she let the men have their worries calmed. She loved them both equally and differently, and Bill couldn't ask for a finer sister, or a more suited person for his younger brother. Seeing how big she had grown with child since his last visit four months prior made him happy. He would never confess to occasionally praying silently that the child simply be born healthy, though Bill secretly prayed for a boy, he didn't think he could survive another niece. Sarah was physically more like her father, with dark hair and eyes, but took after her mother in demeanour and her bright outlook on life, something they were all pleased about. Now here, between her father's hands, she flew.

After enough spins to make Bill dizzy from simply watching, Jim brought Sarah; flushed and shining, back down and announced that dinner was ready.

Bill grinned and stood with a groan, not an easy feat given his hours on the road over the last three days. Horseback was his favourite way to travel but by the Light did it hurt. He did not pat his brother's proffered hand away as he might have done in the past, instead he found himself taking it to gain balance as he straightened his riding breeches and leather weskit. The little pink lump was nestled in her father's arms, breathing hard after so much squealing and he suspected she wasn't long for the conscious world as her eyes drooped dangerously on the way to dinner. Keeping in equal stride with his brother, the pair discussed minor topics as they traversed through the comfortable house.

It was not a grand mansion, rather it was securely nestled between other multi-floored houses. A recent design coming into fashion by a local architect, and they all shared a courtyard off of the main thoroughfare. Despite the unusual setup, there was a warmth to the house. There was always someone moving; a servant, the maids, the valet, Sarah, the kitchen staff, the master and mistress. And soon the cries of a newborn would echo through the halls once more. The estate always felt emptier after Bill had returned from visiting his brother's house.

They reached the smaller dining room, made for intimate parties and family meals and Bill moved to sit to the right of the head of the table. Sarah was jostled awake gently and grumbled a little when sat upon her cushion. Even with the added height, she was only just able to rest her elbows on the table. While servants brought in the various dishes and platters, Bill made faces across the table to his niece in a bid to keep her entertained and awake. She looked a bit tired and pale now in the lamplight and he felt a little bad by arriving here so late. By all means she should have been in bed and fed an hour or so ago, but they- and Sarah- wanted to wait for his arrival before eating. It would do her no harm to have a late night, and his brother would appreciate the tobacco he stopped to buy in King's Square on the way through the city that caused his tardiness. It was of the best quality and a rare vice for the man, having put a fierce halt to the habit when Isabella was pregnant the first time round. Only very occasionally did he indulge in it now.

Soon, once Jim had finished directing, thanking and dismissing his staff, he sat at the head of the table almost lazily, reaching over to pour wine into each of their goblets. Isabella arrived then, now dressed in a loose, dark green garment, cinched beneath the bust, highlighting her swollen form beautifully. As they were taught, both brothers stood at the entrance of the lady and she shushed them fondly as she sat on Jim's left, next to Sarah. Isabella, while she was very taken with a more comfortable lifestyle, could never get around all the manners and foofaraw, with 'all of its nonsense ceremony'. She was still very much a country girl sometimes and Bill loved his sister for her straight forward attitude in the very least.

With the arrival of the matron of the house, dinner was served all around, Isabella straining to reach over her bump to serve up Sarah's small plate.

Conversation was kept light and free, Bill talking about his journey here. Yes, the weather had held good. No, the roads were not rough, that new plan to repave them has paid off, trade should benefit from the sturdier and safer roads to the capital now. Yes, the Royal patrols along the roads were respectful, and checked everyone's papers as they travelled. No, my business here is on a tight schedule and I can't stay for the Royal visit. Yes, my party have been put up in The Stone Crow Tavern, the owner gave us discount on account of previous business with her. Yes Isabella, they settled in fine, I made sure of that before I left to ride here. Yes, little one, we can go see the balloons tomorrow, as long as you're good for your Mother and Father and eat all of your vegetables. Jim, you are being lax as a host, my goblet has been emptied for a whole two minutes!

After a lazy hour, a full belly and half a decanter of wine they departed the table, Jim taking it upon himself to escort the yawning Sarah to bed. With kisses from her mother and uncle, Sarah allowed herself to be carried away and upstairs and Bill escorted his sister to the sitting room.

A fire was comfortably lit in the parlour, and Bill helped Isabella into her armchair. While she was free-spirited and independent, she knew better than to argue with Bill or Jim on the issues of her comfort unless it absolutely necessary to step in. They often had rather fond arguments in the past about such petty things.

Bill, with an undisguised groan, soon gingerly lowered himself into the chair opposite, swirling his goblet idly. With practiced ease, Isabella kicked off her formal shoes and lifted her stockinged feet upon the footrest with her own audible relief.

"That, is so much better," she remarked breathily, leaning her head back into the chair and closing her eyes. Bill chuckled, earning him a dirty look. "Don't you laugh," she chided. "My ankles are far more swollen this time around than when I carried Sarah."

"My apologies," he raised his chalice to her, "You have my happiest sympathies."

"Tch," she tutted. "If I could move, I would skelp your ears."

"Consider them thoroughly skelped anyway, to ease the lady's nerves." She laughed out loud and crinkled her eyes at him.

"Oh Bill we have missed you. Why do you not visit more often? Or allow us to visit you for once?"

"You know why, my dear," Jim answered, entering the room with fresh glasses and a new decanter of what Bill hoped was port. Jim settled the glassware on the sideboard and poured generously. One glass was delivered to Bill and Jim kept the other. "Because Bill refuses to have us in the same house as his unsavoury business."

"Yes, I know that," she argued, declining a dram from her husband. "But surely you could keep all that confined to one part of the house, away from the family wing?"

"No, I do not want Sarah to go exploring and accidentally stumble upon something she shouldn't. I won't risk it. And as much as you both know about my work, I would also rather keep you from actually witnessing it."

Isabella huffed indignantly, displeased with the logic. Bill shared her upset, he too wished his family was not so far apart that visits were so far and few between. However his 'unsavoury business' rather demanded seclusion from every day visitors.

"Why not assign someone to handle the majority of the secretarial work, Bill?" Jim piped up, sipping from his glass. He had nestled on the arm of Isabella's chair and had one arm around the back of it. Like two instruments in harmony, they wrapped around each other as Isabella, even in her small anger, rest an arm on Jim's thigh and rubbed her thumb on the buckskin trousers he wore. "That Fahrad of yours must be up to scratch by now surely? Why not allow him to oversee some of it and give yourself more time off?"

"You know that won't happen until I can no longer mentally function. Either I oversee it all, or none of it. And if I lose control of the network, I will not be let free idly, not with what I know."

Jim pursed his lips but said nothing, drinking his port instead and resting his hand lightly on his silent wife's shoulder. She was contemplative, looking to the fire. Bill knew that neither of his siblings liked his work, but it was necessary work and Bill was good at it. He enjoyed and thrived in it, and the small sacrifice was time with his family to keep it all afloat.

Having set his goblet aside to accept the intricate glass, Bill had swirled and swirled in his own thoughts, finally taking the brief silence among the three to taste his port. It was vigorously rich, perhaps a touch cloudy and lacked finish, but he liked it.

"Mm," he appraised smacking his lips. "A good year this."

"I should say so," Jim chuckled. "It was your birth year." He raised his own glass in a silent toast, to which Bill reciprocated.

"A very good year indeed then!"

Their companionable silence did not last long as the fidgety Isabella asked; "did you like the dinner? Was it too much?"

He allayed her. "No, my dear. It was rich and filling and everything I look forward to when coming here." She visibly relaxed. Despite her protestations throughout the years at the frivolity of high society, she did try hard to fit in and be a good wife for her husband's image. As a town official and likely next Mayor, she was keen on keeping him a good standing, including learning how to throw parties and the like. As a result, each visit was a test run for the woman and Bill was treated to various samples of foods even he couldn't pronounce.

"The bread was rather unusual though, more fruity than one would expect as an accompaniment. And the texture was … fluffier, I would say. What was that? A new type of flour?"

"Oh that was an Elven loaf I found quite by accident. I had it imported from an Elven hole-in-the-wall bakery I found. It worked rather marvellously I thought!" she grinned between the two men and they nodded their fierce agreement. Yes dear, it was wonderful, I'm glad you added it to the menu, we must have it again soon.

"Isabella's tastes and cravings have been rather… _peculiar_ this time round, and she spent a lot of time on the Market Row trying various samples with Sarah last week. I suspect that is where our daughter met a baker's boy and used her feminine wiles to land herself a free pastry yesterday," Jim gave a pointed look to his sheepish wife.

"She was all hyper with the excitement of Bill coming along and I took her to the bakery when running my errands. Both his father and I saw the 'secret' exchange and I tried to pay for the bun, don't you fear. He was very good-natured about it and gave it to her for free as it was her birthday anyway. But don't tell Sarah that, it might upset her."

"We're raising a con-woman, you know."

"Darling, your brother is the head of an information network with Light-knows how many spies whilst running a black market, and you're in politics. Of course she's going to be a con-woman."

The brothers laughed and conversation gave way to more serious topics.

"Speaking of which Bill, I have a feeling you may need to take the stable boy to task. Tongues are wagging to unfriendly ears about my personal business and I have firm reason to believe that he is the source."

"I'll get my men on it first thing."

"Good. Now, you said you aren't staying for the Royal visit?"

"Sadly not! I must away after tomorrow to tend to other business, and I believe it is scheduled for the day after that. After that trade hiccough with Andorhal- which I see has now been corrected if the full wagons that we passed travelling here were anything to go by- I had to quickly reroute certain trails and shipments. I must head out and pay my dues for those who dealt with the situations and thank them grossly for their efforts."

"I wonder how much coin that will cost you," Isabella muttered.

"A pretty penny to be sure, but those shipments needed to be away from prying eyes. Artefacts like that are rare and I needed security. I'll pay top coin for security for my customers."

"Hmm," she agreed. It was clear that like her daughter, the woman tired as the hour passed and Bill was not the only one to notice. Jim later confided that she had been on her feet all day preparing for his arrival and they fondly cursed the woman for her absolute need to have everything perfect. It was never necessary and they had told her that, but she just fussed and fussed.

Jim leaned forward and whispered in her ear, earning a tired sigh and murmur in response.

"Come now, my love, away to bed with you."

Groggily and slowly, Jim helped his wife to her feet and pulled her in close. Bill found the contents of his glass suddenly rather interesting.

"No, no. I'll be fine. You stay here and I'll see you in bed."

Isabella bade a soft goodnight to Bill, who stood as she departed, allowing himself to be patted on the cheek, and the two brothers watched her leave the room for the comfort of her bed.

"I have no idea what I did to be as so lucky to deserve a woman like that, but I do wish you the same fortune brother."

Bill sniffed in humour. "My time for that was long past, Jim. You know that. I am happy with the family here, it is enough for me." Bill ignored the thoughtful look from his sibling and instead finished his glass and crossing his leg over one knee.

"I hear that Balthilas' campaign does not go well for his next tenancy," Bill remarked with ease, steering the topic away from personal discussions. Jim did not hide his dismay at his brother's tactic, but obliged anyway.

"Quite. He is waning and will not last the year. He is petty and overbearing in court, even against minor criminals. A fool charging idiots and thieves. A very poor system for the law indeed. People are unhappy and he will soon crack under the strain. I would daresay that his Magistracy is finally coming to an end."

"And you would overtake it?"

"If I do not make Mayor, then yes."

Bill nodded. "Good, I am pleased."

Their talk was much like this. Of politics and trade, gossip and rumour. Exchanging information was as much of a game as the ones Bill plays with Sarah. Information was more precious than gold and jewels and it was the currency in which Bill dealt. Once business was by, their discussion fell away to chatter, recalling over told memories from their childhoods, and new stories about Sarah that Bill had missed. They talked until the candles burned low and the fire nearly out.

It felt good to be home.

* * *

Sarah's birthday was a busy day.

Breakfast was early and light, the birthday girl wanting to wear her new dress for the day again. Her mother, in a light blue item today, agreed and Sarah ate in such a fervour that she coughed hard on her toast. After a soft telling-off from her mother, Sarah slowed in her eating but the buzz around her did not settle. She was nearly bouncing off the seat in her excitement.

"She wanted to look pretty for your arrival yesterday so we gifted the dress early for her to wear," Jim had told his brother. Bill beamed that the child thought so much of him that she wanted to dress up for her Uncle.

"Uncle Silly Billy?"

"Yes, child?" he answered across the table.

"Do you know how old I am today?"

"I do not, can you tell me?"

"Yes! I am six! Yesterday I was five-and-nearly-six but today I am officially six. Six is an even number!"

"That it is! And you know your mathematics. That is good to hear. A girl needs brains," he tapped the side of his temple, winking at her. "Do you know how old I am?"

"Isn't your birthday in a few days?"

"In a week, yes."

"So you were born a week after me then?"

The three adults laughed merrily, Isabella pulling her in for a hug and kissing the top of her head. "Not quite, my dear. Your Uncle was born a few years before you were."

"More than a few," Jim uttered behind his coffee.

"Oi."

"What?"

"How old are you, Uncle Silly Billy?"

"I am thirty, can you count that high?"

"Ha!" cried Jim, nearly slamming his cup on the table in mirth. "Try nearly the double of thirty, Sarah, and then you'll be closer! Your Uncle will turn forty-eight this year. Not long until fifty."

The brothers shared a teasing look as Sarah started to count very seriously to forty-eight. She stumbled in the late twenties, with soft corrections from her mother, made it through the thirties with ease and got stuck after forty-two for a moment, before climbing louder and louder to forty-eight.

"Yes! I _can_ count to forty-eight!" she proclaimed excitedly before her face fell, eyes wide and transfixed on Bill. "Wow, Uncle Silly Billy," she said solemnly. "That's a lot of birthdays."

Jim spat out his coffee.

* * *

Two hours later found Uncle and niece walking through the town hand in hand. They had passed the fruit stall and picked up a small bushel of apples for the stable horses. They had been to the flower shop, where Sarah (using her Uncle's purse) purchased a single lily for her mother, and they bought a new quill for her father from the Goodman's store. Sarah was generous and was happy with her dress, content to share her goodwill with everyone. With little persuasion, the pair found themselves eating ice cream delicately in the autumn sun, trying to eat it quickly enough so that it didn't melt onto their clothes. Just another of their secrets.

Sarah pointed out some of her school friends, waving at them from a far with a big smile. Sometimes they would stop and she would happily state it was her birthday and that she was out with her Uncle. She occasionally coughed and hiccoughed but it not impede her mood at all, such was the effect of her excitement at the day. The morning was kind to them, the traffic bustling but not dangerously so. Bill's bodyguards stayed well out of sight and they had a wonderful morning. Little did Sarah know that while this was quality bonding time for them both, it was also a way to get Sarah out of the house so her parents could prepare the party.

True to his word, Bill took Sarah to see the balloons and purchased a simple white one at her insistence because it 'matched her sash'. The simplicity of this otherwise complex child never failed to astound Bill and he was certain that she would grow into a mature, clever woman without a doubt. Maybe having another niece wouldn't be so bad then.

Their walk was languid and slow, his normally long stride settled into a near-shuffle as he held the tiny hand of his temporary ward. She spoke on and on of school, of a poem she learned the other day, or a song they had sung. She liked numbers and sometimes writing, but did not like the reading aspect because the stories were boring and not like Uncle Silly Billy's.

Bill told his niece that one of his mares was pregnant and soon to foal. She asked to come see the baby horse when it was born and all he could give her was a non-committed answer. He tried not to talk about the estate in front or to the little one, for fear of rousing her curiosity too much. He did not want her interest over that manor and its grounds, so the less said about it the better. Instead he told her stories of him and her father as boys. Like how one time they went swimming in a lake only to find eels squirming around ("eww!"). Or how her father had gotten stuck up a tree and Bill had to rescue him, only, Bill fell during the attempt and broke his jaw and that's why it hurts when it rains ("ohh!").

Every story he told she would soak up like a sponge in water, with wide eyes and complete, enraptured attention, and Bill loved her more every day for it.

Eventually, the town bells tolled midday and as he was ordered, Bill about turned them back to the house where her party awaited.

She was shocked, of course, and then excited before finally becoming hyperactive. Several of the friends she had seen around town were present, as were their parents and some of the house staff were in attendance also. Jim and Isabella basked in their daughter's gratitude and praise, gracefully accepting her thoughtful gifts from town with kisses and hugs.

The children were shrill and over-candied, but Bill suffered it for Sarah. His two bodyguards, in casual dress, lingered around in plain sight due to the crowd and that was fine. A messenger brought Bill's gift to his niece from the rest of his inventory at the Stone Crow Tavern, and Sarah was delighted to be the owner of a new songbird.

The afternoon faded to early evening and the party dissipated naturally, the children thoroughly worn out. Sarah was among them but determinedly stayed awake so that her Uncle could tuck her in and tell a bedtime story. She coughs a few times and later that night he tells Isabella and Jim that he is concerned, and can send for his own personal physician.

Isabella waves him off, telling him to stop fretting. She was coughing through the night last night and is simply coming down with something after all the excitement leading up to these last two days. She is a sturdy child and a little illness is good for them, he is told expertly. Bowing to superior parental knowledge, Bill tries to let go of his anxiety. He thinks that it's more about Sarah being a little sick with the excitement of the last few days than actually what she has. He refuses to acknowledge the small space in his heart where his own child may have been.

It was becoming more and more difficult for the man to leave the household after his visit.

* * *

Any thoughts of retirement are stored away come the next morning when Bill has to leave. His business will keep him occupied for the next day and him and his small entourage are to set off later tonight if they are to make the town by morn for his next appointment. It was a difficult schedule to organise, but Bill managed a day and a bit with his family, charging up on their love and familiarity until he could return for an extended visit. He soothes a sniffling and now fully-cold-burdened Sarah, kissing the top of her head as he holds her close with promises that he will be back soon when her brother or sister is born. This seems to placate her and she limply returns to her mother's arms, unchanged out of her nightwear and bundled in a thick gown. Bill is grateful that the cold manifested itself today rather than yesterday so that she could enjoy it all to the fullest. He whispers a sweet 'I love you, little girl,' and receives a genuine smile in return. It is enough.

Bill kisses Isabella on the cheek and holds her close as he can with Sarah sandwiched between them. She promises to take care of herself and the baby, and looks forward to seeing him in a few weeks again. Jim clasps his hand firmly and they share a tender moment.

He is wished a safe journey home and Bill departs without fuss, willing himself not to look back lest he never want to leave the warmth they provide.

But he doesn't look back, and he attends his business.

* * *

The journey home is peaceful and without problem, travelling with his small band holding supplies and other pieces. His appointments are made, his purse emptied, contracts renewed and bargains struck. Bill always deals with his traders, safe houses and 'business partners' personally, wanting to know the person who will be weaved into his intricate web of marketing and stowing away of illicit goods.

The roads are busy with preparation as the Royal party traverses, but Bill keeps to less tended roads when he gets wind of the large group on the main trade route. It extends their travel, but there are items in his immediate possession that he would rather _not_ be searched and confiscated, such was life in the Black Market trade.

It takes five days in total, nearly double their journey to the city initially. The rain holds off until they are but an hour or two from the estate and Bill's face aches with the onset of it. The estate looms and the wagons with him and his staff trundle along into the courtyard and round to the back of the house. Bill may soon need to invest in a carriage if his back continues to protest like this, he is not as young as he once was.

The bigger of the two carts belonging to him is drawn around the back and Bill strides to the bigger one, pulling back the tarp.

Beneath is a gagged and bound man. He is frightened, drained, soiled and panicked. Four days in a cart without food will do that to a stable hand.

"My, my. You have been naughty haven't you? Did you think I wouldn't find out about your other dalliance? Tut, tut. Shame on you." He wags one finger slowly. "You should know by now that I have eyes and ears everywhere." Bill turns to a servant who had exited the kitchen to aid the unloading. "Caleb, get Stewart and take shit-covered sod to my cellar. Oh and fetch for someone to draw me a bath. I'm going to want to wash the blood off as soon as I'm finished. It shouldn't take long, not with the state he's in, so keep the water hot."

"Right away, Sir." And Caleb scurried off.

Bill watched him idly, tapping his chin in thought. "Hmm, remind me to give that boy a raise, he has potential. Three weeks on the job and he has yet to flinch."

* * *

As expected, the interrogation did not last long and neither did his brother's ex-"stable hand". Information as to his true employer and information passed on was gleaned with precision and delicacy, as was the man's blood. The body would make fine compost for his garden, Light knows that the lilies had been wilting for too long, maybe this would fix them up.

Bill sank into the bath and his bones thanked him over and over for the relief. The water ran red despite the scrubbing he'd done before getting into the tub, but Bill was too adjusted to this after a session that he just lay relaxing instead. The water threatened chill by the time he got out, forcing the man to leave its glorious confines and get dressed. He soon settled for dinner in the library, oddly restless for his bed.

But the arrival of a message delayed that.

The courier had fainted upon arrival, having pressed hard and fast from the east to deliver news and the only words he could utter was to return to the city. Stunned, Bill realised that Isabella had probably went into labour a day or so after he had left. If this man had travelled a three-day hard ride in less than that, then the babe could surely be no more than two days old.

Bill set about making arrangements for a sole journey to the city for a few days, half-heartedly joking that the woman did it deliberately to save him from unpacking. If he left now, Bill determined he could arrive on his birthday since he travelled alone and therefore much faster without wagons and inventory.

And arrive on his birthday he did.

The city was on fire. Stratholme was burning.

And his family along with it.

* * *

It wasn't long afterwards that Bill died. A plague swept across the land over time and its name was Arthas Menethil.

The capital, Lordaeron, fell after Bill died. The Elves fell after that. But that was not the end. Oh, no.

When Lady Sylvanas Windrunner took up the mantle of Queen, those who had been raised with ill-intent, bitter with hatred and twisted with grief turned to her, desperate and wanting for retribution. She declared them cast offs, outsiders and abandoned, and together they became Forsaken.

Bill shed his name that day, the day he pledged allegiance to the Banshee Queen and the cause. His new name was an ancient word. There was a word in the Old Language, the one used for the Official and Most Holy of Sermons by Priests of The Light. It is short and to the point, encompassing all that Death is and was. Death was the ending of everything; the last breath, the last thought, the last laughter, the last memory and tear. The ending of a life.

Baron William Walden fell a few weeks after the Culling of Stratholme, and when he rose with determination and a singular goal, embraced by a force so grotesque and unnatural that he was no longer recognisable, he adopted a new name.

And that name was Mort.


End file.
